


Coming to Terms

by undomielregina



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Costumes, M/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-02
Updated: 2012-05-02
Packaged: 2017-11-04 17:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undomielregina/pseuds/undomielregina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Wayne is home briefly during Batman Inc, and Batman and Batman encounter each other for almost the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming to Terms

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on Grant Morrison's run on Batman, Batman & Robin, and Batman Inc. (pre-DCnU) and is drawing its characterization from that specific interpretation of the characters. As a result, the characterization is different from how I usually see the characters. It was written during amnesty for kink_bingo 2011.

The first time Bruce sees Dick again, it's a shock, which surprises him. It's not the first time he's seen him in the suit, after all, and it's not like he hadn't expected it. Still, he hadn't thought Dick would make it his own quite this way, would adapt it to his own strengths so well. It looks nothing like one of his own designs, and unlike every other time, Dick doesn't look like an impostor, a boy trying on his father's clothes. The Robin at his side, a protege all Dick's own, doesn't help matters.

He doesn't engage with them much. Dick knows him as well as anyone alive and Robin has been studying Bruce's style since before he could talk. Either of them could identify him in a heartbeat and he needs time before he can put the cowl back on. He's still not ready to admit that his plans mean giving Gotham into other hands, even ones as worthy as these.

The next time, there's no room for any such thoughts. There's a villain to catch and a bomb and Dick is dying and Bruce can almost believe that he never left at all. After, Dick is out of commission and Bruce is building his global army and with one thing and another it's nearly a year before they're face to face in costume again.

 

Bruce has only just suited up when Batman returns from patrol alone — Damian is injured and has been flatly prevented from leaving the manor and Alfred's care. Watching his movements, although he's clearly numb with exhaustion, Bruce feels unsubtle and brutal, and even, absurdly, clumsy compared to Batman's lethal grace. This is a Batman he can never be and for a moment, despite all his resolutions, all his work for just this result, the idea is terrifying. The others he's recruited in the time since are one thing, but watching Batman, it feels oddly as though the bat-god of the Miagani has chosen a new avatar.

Batman shakes his head minutely to brush away the nonsensical thought and Gotham's Batman looks up at the movement. "You modified the suit again," he says.

Batman just nods and so Gotham's Batman walks over to him for a closer look. His scrutiny is minute and intense and Batman responds in kind. He wonders if the weight of Gotham's Batman's gaze is what other people feel when he watches them. To his surprise, he finds the unblinking stare arousing, feels his cock attempting to harden although it's thwarted by the cup. He feels no attraction for his son, but this Batman is somehow a different case. Gotham's Batman's color is heightened just a little and his fingers shake slightly. He's clearly not unaffected either.

Batman lets his breath hitch minutely, a flush rise to his cheeks. Gotham's Batman, used to his close control over theoretically involuntary functions, takes both reactions for the confession they are and moves to touch. He traces the heavy piping on the torso, runs his hands over the heavy plating under the thick kevlar. Batman can't even feel the touch — the suit is designed to hold up against a knife blade — but the sight of Gotham's Batman's gauntleted hands on his chest is almost unbearably erotic.

His own hands are moving over Gotham's Batman's waist, feeling the strange shape of the containers on his belt, splaying his fingers over lightly-armored abs. He pulls Gotham's Batman against him, body to body and knows that the other man can feel the contact much more clearly. To Batman, it's little more than a general sense of pressure.

Gotham's Batman grabs his head and pulls down hard, yanking Batman into a clashing, combative kiss as full of teeth as it is of tongue. Neither of them yields and so they're both panting when Batman pulls back to trace the edge of Gotham's Batman's cowl with his fingers. The differences between their suits are less marked here; both have a chainmail core but where Batman's is leather covered, Gotham's Batman has used the same nylon as his cape. He shudders at the first touch on his bare skin and abruptly moves his hands to the hidden catches that fasten Batman's groin guard. Batman always puts them in the same spots, so it takes Gotham's Batman less than a minute to remove it and open his fly and then Batman is finally fully erect. A moment later Gotham's Batman has his hand wrapped around Batman's shaft and the twin sensations of soft, thin leather on his cock and heavy armor brushing his lower abdomen cause him to groan involuntarily.

To Batman, it feels as though Gotham's Batman is getting the upper hand and he moves one hand down to free Gotham's Batman's cock. He's stymied, though. Gotham's Batman has never worn a suit like this one, and in changing the design he's had to move a few clasps. Batman can't manage one-handed, not when he keeps getting tangled in the loose spandex covering the cup. It takes him at least twice as long as it took Gotham's Batman, and he's left with a frustrating sense of inferiority that's enraging and yet still arousing. Finally, the cup is off and Batman eases Gotham's Batman's cock out of the spandex. He has to be careful here; his gauntlets are heavily-armored on the back, the palms are textured to improve his grip, and it would be so easy to cause harm with an errant move. He's lucky that manual dexterity is so important to him, because the gloves are thin and supple other than the armor plates and the texturing is light enough that he won't cause any harm as long as he's careful.

Gotham's Batman's cock is long, but not particularly thick. Batman can feel its heat through his gauntlets as he strokes it gently. Gotham's Batman is panting now, lowering his head to lean it on Batman's shoulder. Batman's breath is scarcely coming slower, but he's determined to bring Gotham's Batman off first and he remains stubbornly upright, refusing to lean. Gotham's Batman, though, seems to have the same idea, huffing briefly in apparent amusement and stroking faster. Batman retaliates, taking a firmer grip although he's careful to monitor the amount if friction he's using. If it takes anything more, he'll have to stop for a moment and get the lubricant he keeps for sticky locks, squeaky hinges and the occasional window out of his utility belt. It does take more, and Batman, who has trained until he can retrieve anything on his belt easily with broken fingers and a concussion, fumbles the small bottle the first time he tries to retrieve it. A small hitch in the rhythm of the hand on Batman's dick makes it clear that Gotham's Batman has noticed and is amused. In retaliation, Batman's lubed grip is much firmer than it had been, making Gotham's Batman gasp briefly. He starts thrusting a little, so Batman allows himself to do the same.

Gotham's Batman is close now, and Batman focuses on bringing him to orgasm, relaxing some of the control he's using to stave off his own in the process. Gotham's Batman is quick to take advantage and Batman feels himself approaching the point of no return. Still, he manages to hold off until he feels the first hard, involuntary thrust and the change in texture that indicate that Gotham's Batman has orgasmed. Batman feels satisfaction at his success and then is orgasming himself, quickly enough that it's nearly simultaneous.

It's good enough that he loses track briefly, but better still is that when he comes back to himself the sense of uncertainty is still missing. Gotham's Batman pushes off his chest to stand upright, a slight upward curve to his lips. Both of their suits are spattered with their own come now.

Bruce pushes his cowl back, thinking that while Alfred has surely seen far worse he's still disinclined to put himself in a position that will require explaining. Batman also pushes his cowl back and Dick must be thinking along similar lines, because he's looking down at himself and grimacing. To Bruce's relief, he doesn't seem any more inclined to talk about what they just did than Bruce himself is. It's Bruce who breaks their little detente, though, by walking to the small sink near the suit pods and wetting two cloths. Walking back, he tosses one to Dick, who sees the movement out of the corner of his eye and catches it. The suits are designed to be as water- and dirt-resistant as Bruce could reasonably manage, and they wipe clean with minimal effort. With the mess cleaned up, Bruce picks up his groin guard and refastens it while Dick does the same with his own suit.

Dick reaches out to Bruce when he finishes, putting a hand on his shoulder. Bruce's lack of demonstrativeness means they don't touch often, but this is grounding and helps him leave Batman's unexpected blend of territoriality and affection behind him.

"Dick," he says, "That was... I didn't expect that."

Dick smiles, quick and unforced. "Don't worry, Bruce. I got it." His body language says he's telling the truth.


End file.
